


Carla Jane Pays Up

by terma_archivist



Category: Harsh Realm, The X-Files
Genre: Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-01-01
Updated: 2002-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:41:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26535280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terma_archivist/pseuds/terma_archivist
Summary: This was written for the M/K Fight club mailing list
Collections: TER/MA





	Carla Jane Pays Up

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alicettlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [TER/MA](https://fanlore.org/wiki/TER/MA) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the TER/MA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/terma/profile).

Go to notes and disclaimers 

**Carla Jane pays up  
by Carla Jane**

  
**Just pulling up to Rick's place  
King Street, Burford (where???), Ontario, Canada   
Saturday night**

Mulder had been in bad moods before but this one boded to be the worst in a very long time. His son of a bitch, rat bastard lover had failed to make their meeting in Detroit two weeks ago and had been impossible to pin down ever since. It was only by way of Mulder's new informant, Tyler, that the FBI agent had been able to find this obscure location. What Alex could possibly be doing in this rural, armpit of the province Mulder couldn't guess. 

On top of everything else, Mulder's plane had been forced to circle for over an hour the Toronto airport, Canadian customs had confiscated his gun and two rental cars had died along the way to this god-forsaken village. 

Mulder almost missed the place. The whole town was dark and it looked as if the sidewalks had been rolled up for the night. Luckily the only stop-light in town was right near his destination, halting him, and the stoop of the small restaurant was illuminated with a single bulb. 

Slamming the door as he climbed out of the small car brought Mulder a bit of satisfaction that outweighed his loss of the element of surprise. Not that he could've just busted into the tiny building anyway because, strangely enough, a guard of sorts leaned in the doorway. 

Surprise it seemed was the tool of the other side tonight. Lounging in the entrance way was a young woman in full Royal Canadian Mountie regalia, complete to the red serge jacket and Smokey the bear hat. Even stranger was her choice of weapons, a pale wood canoe paddle. 

The young lady's eyes sparkled briefly on sighting Mulder but a frown quickly damped down her excited expression. "YOU! You are not supposed to be here Agent Mulder." She informed him gravely. 

Stopped in the middle of reaching for his ID Mulder stared at the figure more closely. There was no way this snip of a girl was a proper Mountie, uniform or not. "How do you know who I am?" He demanded. 

"Oh please." She tapped the flat of her paddle absently against the dark gathers of fabric covering her legs. "No one in world looks quite like you. More's the shame." A smile curved her lips and she shifted her wooden weapon to her other hand so she could extend her right. "I'm Erika, beta reader extraordinaire. It's a pleasure." 

Mulder glared down at the offered handshake until it fell away. "I'm looking for Alex Krycek." He began. 

"So are a lot of people." Erika giggled happily. "He's got a certain something about him, doesn't he?" 

"If you'll just step aside." Mulder made an attempt to squeeze past the young woman only to discover the paddle had whipped up to block the doorway. 

"I'm really sorry, Fox." She shook her head. "But you're not on the guest list tonight. Carla Jane's writing this one and she doesn't do Mulder/Krycek. I'm really, really sorry." Erika repeated herself. 

"What?!?" Mulder drew back in shock and glared. "What do you mean Carla Jane doesn't do Mulder/Krycek. I know for a fact that she's got about a 100 megs of the stuff stored on a writable CD, and she's a subscriber to RatB and Fight Club. Of course she does Mulder/Krycek." 

"No, no, no. She _reads_ M/K." Erika explained as if to a very slow child. "She loves reading it but she doesn't write it. There's no need for her to write it 'cause there's enough of it out there to feed her cravings. CJ writes stuff she can't find anywhere else and wants to see." The beta reader corrected. "Rules had to be bent to get her onto the site when teRMa first extended the invite for her to archive there." A crumpled paper was produced from inside the woman's jacket pocket. "See, look here. Mac Ramsey, check. Richard Sharpe, check. Mike Pinocchio, check. That's it. You ain't on the list tonight Mulder. Go home." 

The FBI agent's shoulders squared. "I distinctly recall a rape scene in Alaska that was Mulder/Krycek." He reminded the pesky nuisance standing before him. 

A very unladylike snort was the reaction to that statement. "Oh, like that's a sterling recommendation for me opening the door. NOT!" 

"La Princesa Guerrera." Mulder insisted. "That's got M/K in it." 

"Yeah, so what? It's also got heaps of MSR in it. If that were the rule we're measuring by... shouldn't you be out on a date with her holiness, Saint Scully tonight?" Erika stood firm. "It's 'Scoundrels' night. LPG doesn't enter into it. Blah!" 

The brat actually had the gall to stick her tongue out at him. Mulder was just about ready to yank that damned paddle away from her and apply it to the woman's backside when a shiny red pick-up truck pulled up and the driver's door shoved open. Mulder took one look at the new arrival's surprised green eyes and threw himself across the divide. The newcomer was slammed against the side of the truck. Mulder grabbed onto slick leather lapels and set to ravaging the other man's mouth. A few seconds later the FBI agent startled backwards and glared at the man he'd been enthusiastically kissing. A question darkened his changeable eyes and his mouth opened although the words wouldn't come. 

"Victor." The new arrival confirmed Mulder's suspicions. "I'm Victor, not Alex. Jeez, Fox what do I gotta do, wear a bloody name tag around you?" Alex Krycek's twin brother brushed past his occasional lover. "Hey Erika have the guys already started playing?" 

The costumed woman in the doorway gazed doe-eyed at Victor for a moment then attempted to shake herself back into an official bouncer type pose, rather ineffectively. "I'm sooo sorry, Vicka, darling... baby." She smiled sadly. "But you're not invited either. CJ specifically said penetration was a requirement." Erika's eyes went impossibly wide. "Or has the Columbia story gone that far already?" 

Mansfield's upper lip curled. "No damn-it. Why are all you women trying to rush us? We'll get there when the time is right." He shook his head. "I thought... " Victor began in a put-upon tone. "... that you might want to come into Tim Horton's over in Brantford. I'm meeting Ray Kowalski from Due South there to do a run through of the plot outline Carla Jane has and see what he thinks." 

"You and RayK." Erika's lip trembled. "Together? In a donut shop?" 

"Yeah. Come on. I'll give you a lift." Victor offered helpfully. "I got Smarties and Ray's buying the coffee." He bribed, zeroing straight in on the young woman's greatest weaknesses. 

"Oh... " Erika whimpered. "Okay." The paddle dropped forgotten to the concrete and a flash of bright red marked Erika's path to the passenger side of the truck. 

Victor turned a loaded look on Mulder. "You owe me one, G- man. Don't bruise Mac up tonight getting to Alex. I want need him silky and smooth for that 'Pretty baby' series Angel and Rina are tossing up on RatB. Jeez, it's hot." 

"Sure. Fine. Whatever." Mulder dismissed the red truck and it's occupants from in his attention as he stomped up to the door of the restaurant. In a terribly over-dramatic movement the FBI agent lifted his foot and kicked open the door, breaking it off it's hinges. A dim interior filled with middle-class bric-a-brac decorations was revealed. Near the back corner of the restaurant four men were seated around a round table. All but one of the men seemed to be in the process of undressing. Cards were scattered across the table top. 

"Fuck. We're busted." Mike Pinocchio, still clad in every bit of his cast off army surplus gear pushed back from the poker game. He took in Mulder's aggravated stance and Alex's guilty smirk with a put upon groan of disappointment. "Shit. There go my plans for the night." Climbing to his feet, Pinocchio hauled Mac Ramsey's chair back as well. "Well, you're close enough to the type I'm usually dragging around after me. Let's you and me get out of here, Kid. Only an freakin' idiot gets between an old married couple like them." 

"No way... I'm not leaving _them_ together." The lanky thief protested briefly. "Besides, this is my first decent hand all night." He waved his cards to make his point clear. 

Pinocchio gathered up a couple of weapons from the pile nearby the reached down to catch at the back of Mac's briefs since that's all the younger man was still wearing. "Come'on pretty-boy. We're out of here. Lemmie show you my system glitch." 

Mac Ramsey protested as he was dragged toward the wall. "My shoes, my guns... Damn it Pinocchio. I barely know you. Why the hell... " The wall rippled and with a vaguely wet burbling noise it swallowed up the pair of them as they walked through it. 

Mulder turned his attention back to the table just as the blond man sitting beside Alex shrugged into his white shirt and crisp green jacket but didn't bother doing either of them up. Reaching to the floor behind him Richard Sharpe grabbed his boots and slipped them on then picked up a machine gun that had been under his chair. He was frowning at Mulder and making no movement to actually leave the building. 

"You best go, Dickin." Alex spoke for the first time. "This is going to get messy." 

"Carla Jane's writing this one." Sharpe reminded Alex, pointing with is gun barrel to the woman perched on a nearby table scribbling in a binder. "And she likes me better than that 'un." The Englishman announced, clipping off each word and glaring at Mulder with narrowed eyes. "He can scram." 

"Dickin, me Darlin." Alex rose gracefully to his feet and planted a quick kiss on the blond soldier's cheek. "Never, ever forget... It's me she loves best. Not you." He corrected. "And as much as she'd enjoy banging out a Sharpe's scoundrel story right now, I think she owes a lot of other stories first... one being an apology fic to Fight club." The Russian ran his fingers down Sharpe's sleeve. "So you head out and I'll be along in few months to kill another one of your wives when CJ catches up on her outstanding stories. Okay, moi zolotoj soldat?" 

"CARLA!" Sharpe stormed over to the nearby woman. "I'm getting bloody fuckin' neglected lately. It's been ages since Alex and I screwed around." 

Brown eyes lifted slowly from the ink-marked paper. "Sorry Love. But I gotta do this or Tyler will kick my ass. She's kinda scary, Hon." The author smiled. "I'll tell you what. You go wait at my place and I'll come take care of you in an hour myself." Carla Jane's brows lifted. "Don't you wanna know why I kept this long padawan braid when I got my hair hacked off, Dicken sweetie?" 

Richard Sharpe, who had ridden his share of horses in his time, grinned widely. "One hour." He allowed. 

"One hour." The writer promised, watching his butt as Sharpe turned and walked out the door. 

"Can we get on with this?" Mulder complained loudly. 

"Ooops. Sorry. I watched 'Lady Chatterley' one too many times last week." Carla Jane's attention dropped back down to her binder. "Okay, let's get dangerous." She muttered to herself and the lights in the restaurant dimmed even further leaving only a puddle of illumination around the remaining men. 

"About fucking time." Mulder's lips curved up into a rather vicious smile and without further warning he dove across the table to send Alex sprawling to the floor. This was going to be altogether too easy tonight. The younger man was already stripped down to nothing but a t-shirt and black bikini bottoms. 

The pair of them tumbled to the floor rolling over several times. Mulder ended up straddling his lover while both of the panted for air. 

"Where the fuck have you been?" Mulder demanded without really expecting an answer. His arm drew back and he laid a stunning slap across the face of the his prone lover. 

"Lista, Fox... Lover." Alex gasped out. "I can explain." 

A small smear of blood now marked the corner of Alex's mouth but the Russian was still smiling which only infuriated his attacker more. "I don't want to hear it." Mulder grabbed hold of Alex's cotton shirt with both hands. First he jerked up and slammed down, bouncing Alex's head off the floor then Mulder's fingers bent into claws and he ripped the thin black 'T' open, exposing the other's chest. 

Alex sucked in a mouthful of air and his arrogant smirk slipped away. "Rushing things a little aren't you, Lista? Why don't you get your gear off?" Alex attempted to pluck at the older man's suit jacket only to have his wrist seized. 

Mulder climbed to his feet, dragging Alex upright with him. "If you're going to play the whore I'll fucking treat you like one." The FBI agent twisted, using momentum to throw his captive against the table the men had been playing poker at. A cry of pain completely cracked Alex's cool façade as his hips impacted with the unforgiving wood. 

Not giving the younger man a chance to catch his breath Mulder slammed one arm across Alex's back to hold him down. "I should slap you around some more, slut, but I can't be bothered wasting the energy." Alex's briefs ripped away with a satisfying tear of fabric. Mulder skated a thumb down his lover's spine and into the crease of his ass. When the Russian began to struggle at the action Mulder spared the time to slam Alex's forehead down on the table top before returning to his explorations. "Just lay there and take it." Mulder ordered in a threatening growl. 

The reason for Alex's attempt at resistance became clear all too quickly. Mulder's thumb shoved at the entrance to his lover's body only to find the way already greased by some slick substance. The FBI agent immediately screamed his anger into Alex's ear. "You absolute whore. Which one of them did you do already? All of them?" 

"Nyet, moi Lista." The Russian protested franticly. "It was just a precaution." His body strained attempting to unbend but Mulder's forearm was jammed tight to his spine and completely unyielding. 

"Shut up! Just shut up!" Mulder withdrew his thumb and used his now freed hand to yank open the zipper of his pants. He didn't bother to do anything but fish his erection out through the openings. Kicking Alex's legs further apart for his own convenience, Mulder moved tight up to the other man's ass and shoved in hard without a word of warning. 

Alex's scream of distress at the invasion was a salve to anger that had been bubbling through Mulder since his lover hadn't showed up to their arranged tryst. Feeling a faint twinge of regret for the pain Alex was experiencing, Mulder waited a moment to allow that initial shock to wear off. Besides which, nothing felt quite like the first moment of penetration after being parted from Alex for so long. Mulder wanted to squeeze out every drop of satisfaction from this instant in time for his own sake. 

Mulder's released the weight holding his lover down so his hands would be free to dig into the expanse of pale skin underneath him. Maybe he should have waited long enough to undress so more of Alex's divine body would be pressed to his skin but the power of taking the younger man this way was intoxicating. 

"I've got what you need, Baby." Mulder whispered into the other's ear. "You don't need to go fucking around on me." An almost complete withdrawal and a hard thrust emphasised the statement. 

Alex groaned and his own fingers flexed, unable to find purchase on the surface under him. "Ebat'-kopat' moi liubovnik. Slow down." 

"Next time, if you behave. This time is all mine, Whore. You owe me." Mulder countered, jolting Alex's body violently with every stroke. Completion was overtaking Mulder with the speed of jet-plane. It had been too long since he'd felt his lover squirming deliciously beneath him. Bending even further over his victim Mulder pressed his open mouth to one of Alex's straining shoulders. An almost canine whine and a shudder from his lover pushed the Agent over the edge. Mulder bared his teeth, biting down and pumped his hips franticly. 

Mulder's next clear perception was Alex growling swear words in several different languages and shoving up, trying to push his lover off. 

"Stop whining." The Agent ordered. He gathered up the muscle power to land a sharp slap on Alex's ass before pulling out. "You'll get your turn." The withdrawal sent a shiver through Mulder's frame. 

"Bastard." Alex continued to complain. "It'll be ages. CJ never puts more than one sex scene in her short stories." 

Reminded of the author Mulder raised his eyes to see if the woman was still writing since he felt a clear sense of disorientation. "Damn. You're right. She's gone already." 

"Sharpe's waiting on her." Alex said, as if that explained everything. "Oh, and she's been having trouble getting her car started so... she's gotta walk home." The Russian shoved Mulder the rest of the way off him. "So either we go find another writer immediately or I'm headed into to Harsh Realm 'cause I need to get laid RIGHT NOW!" He shouted the last two words. 

"Yeah, yeah. Impatient little bitch." Mulder mumbled, daring a frosty glare at his choice of words. Alex hated being called that. "My car and cell phone are outside and Tyler claimed there was a whole line waiting for the whipping post. We'll give her a shout." 

* * *

Carla Jane pays up   
By Carla Jane, who can't seem to write a non-crossover piece to save her soul - The silliness at the beginning and the rather brief venture into smut is at the end.   
[email removed]   
NC17   
Disclaimers: Not mine. No profit. No sense.   
---


End file.
